


Test of Strength

by monobuu



Series: The Hunt [3]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: A little bit of bad language, A little bit of violence, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-09
Updated: 2016-07-09
Packaged: 2018-07-22 10:58:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,987
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7434152
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/monobuu/pseuds/monobuu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Involving yourself in the affairs of faerie isn't all sunshine and roses. When Arthur comes to realize this, he must decide anew which path he should take.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Test of Strength

As the morning sun began to filter through the curtains and warm Arthur's senses into wakefulness, he was almost afraid to open his eyes. The haze from slumber slowly faded and Arthur worked up the courage to turn over, but kept them tightly shut in an almost childish fear. He took in a long, slow inhale, stretching muscles stiff from sleep and pushed himself up on his elbows, head dropping back as held the breath in. Green eyes creaked open, squinting in the morning light as they gazed at the ceiling before he let his breath out in a slow, shaky exhale, gradually turning to take in the other side of the bed.  
  
A slow smile worked its way onto his face and a pack of butterflies erupted in his stomach, fluttering warmly as his eyes roamed over the figure laid out next to him. The golden expanse of skin that glowed softly in the morning light was a beacon for Arthur's fingers and he turned to lay on his side, face half buried in his pillow as his hand reached out to sweep fingertips over smooth skin. It was warm to the touch and Arthur slowly spread his palm flat against one well-muscled shoulder, eyes fixed on the still sleeping face of his lover.  
  
Arthur had always been an early riser, but it seemed Alfred was not. Arthur did not begrudge him this, especially since last night had been spent – ah – reacquainting themselves with one another. It hadn't been nearly as intense as the night of the Hunt, but it had been passionate nonetheless and-  
  
Arthur could feel a blush spreading over his cheeks and he had to fight the urge to bury his face in his pillow and laugh. Instead, he let a smile spread over his features as he closed his eyes, scooting closer to his lover and breathing in his scent.  
  
After a moment, he opened them again, gaze once more trailing up to look at Alfred's face. The man had showed Arthur an entirely different side to him the previous night, never leaving his side throughout the duration of the party and acting much brighter then he had when they'd first met. Arthur could still see the Alfred he had grown accustomed to in his memories, that wild aspect of him, the sharp edge of fantasy that lurked just beneath his genuine cheer, but the shift had been slightly startling nonetheless.   
  
Alfred had smiled almost constantly and when he laughed, pressed up against Arthur's side, Arthur could feel that low, intense rumble slide up his spine before a light burst of chuckles tumbled out of his mouth. It had been as if Arthur was aware of every movement Alfred had made, hyper sensitive to every gesture or touch. And the magic that Alfred had used on him had only added to the feeling, tingling up his spine and over his limbs as he'd twirled the illusionary Lady Jones around the dance floor. Arthur had to admit, it had been nice to be able to dance and stand close to Alfred without having to worry about what other people thought, but the idea of him being a girl had still been very hard to wrap his mind around.  
  
And maybe it was because he'd been nervous about what would happen when his eyes finally closed for the night, maybe it was the pure bliss of having Alfred by his side once more, or perhaps it had something to do with the fae and their magic. Arthur didn't know. But he found himself giddy with happiness upon waking and finding Alfred still beside him. The man had promised to answer all of Arthur's questions today, those that hadn't been explained the previous night anyway. The Briton curled his fingers in the bedsheets as he anticipated getting to know more about his lover, the specifics of Alfred's own magic, eyes closing as he imagined the tales Alfred might spin for him.  
  
“Thinkin' of me?” came a low voice and Arthur's eyes snapped open to gaze into bright, sky blue eyes.  
  
“Possibly,” he murmured in return, smiling genuinely as Alfred heaved himself up and turned, propping his upper body up on his hands as he loomed over Arthur.   
  
Arthur could feel Alfred's heat as the man settled over him, burying his nose in Arthur's neck as he inhaled long and slow, hands moving across Arthur's sensitive sides. The Briton squirmed slightly, a breathless laugh escaping his throat as his hands went to Alfred's wrists, intent on stopping him. He knew from his previous experience that he couldn't physically stop Alfred from doing anything, so perhaps that was why his heart fluttered and warmed when Alfred's fingers stopped their exploration to twine together with Arthur's.  
  
He could feel Alfred's lips on his neck as they spread into a smile, could feel the warmth of his tongue dart out to taste the skin of his neck. Arthur closed his eyes and relaxed, shifting slightly as Alfred released his fingers to place a rough palm on each side of his hips, thumbs flicking idly across the slope of bone that stuck out on either side.  
  
Arthur's breath came out a little shaky on the exhale, but he managed to creak his eyes open when Alfred raised his head to smirk down at him. “Alfred,” Arthur started, “I-”  
  
He was abruptly interrupted by a loud knock on the door, followed by a soft, polite voice. “Master Kirkland?”  
  
Arthur's eyes widened as his gaze darted to the door. He'd forgotten entirely about what time it was! He usually didn't lay about in bed all morning gazing at his lover with lovestruck eyes, mainly because he usually had the sense to plan ahead and –   
  
He darted a look at Alfred. It was definitely _his_ fault for taking up so much of Arthur's thoughts that he couldn't think rationally or with any sense of logic at all! Alfred seemed to read his look, but only smiled at him, mildly amused at the situation and entirely unrepentant.  
  
“Master Kirkland,” the voice called again, two more knocks rapping soundly on wood. “I have your breakfast.”  
  
Arthur panicked, hands coming up to push at Alfred's bare chest. “Hide!” he hissed lowly, but Alfred didn't budge, only threw an amused glance at the door, then turned back to Arthur with a smirk.  
  
“Alfred, please!” Arthur begged, wishing fervently to avoid any unnecessary gossip that would certainly make it back to his father in no time. It wasn't as if noblemen didn't dally with others, both men and women, from time to time, but it wasn't exactly _proper_ to do it so blatantly. Letting the maid catch you in bed with another man was not something Arthur was keen on doing. And he certainly did not want to try explaining Alfred to anyone, let alone his father.  
  
“Relax,” Alfred said easily, flopping down onto the bed with a grin. He waved the air in front of him in some sort of vague gesture and then he was gone.  
  
Just...gone.  
  
“Al-” Arthur began, eyes wide, but whipped his head up as his door opened and the maid walked in, breakfast tray in hand. Arthur darted another look at the bed where Alfred had just been and found nothing, not even an indent where there might have been a body. He swallowed, tried to paste a smile on his face and turned to address the maid. His hand snuck out silently to feel if Alfred was still physically there and when his fingers met warm skin, he jumped a little in surprise.  
  
The maid quirked an eyebrow at him. “Is something wrong, Master Kirkland?”  
  
“Uh,” Arthur muttered intelligently and, with one last quick look at the bed, shook his head quickly. “Nothing at all,” he said.  
  
The maid smiled in relief and set the tray down on the table that sat off to the side and near the window. The tray was loaded with a teapot, a cup and various plates filled with pastries, warm bread and fresh fruit and Arthur began to move toward the table before he felt a touch on his thigh, reminding him that he was both stark naked and that no matter how much it seemed like Alfred had disappeared, he was still between him and his breakfast.  
  
“Are you sure you are all right, Master Kirkland?” the maid asked again, picking up Arthur's clothes from the floor and folding them before setting them on the chest near his wardrobe. For some reason she didn't touch Alfred's, shed with just as much enthusiasm as Arthur's the night before and lying in various piles of crumbled fabric across the floor. They were no less obvious than Arthur's own, but she didn't reach for any of them, making her way back to the table where his breakfast sat. Arthur opened his mouth to reassure her.  
  
And snapped it shut immediately when he felt the touch at his thigh turn into a lingering caress that trailed further and further up the inside of his thigh.  
  
“Master Kirkland?”   
  
Arthur clamped his hand down on Alfred's wrist, hoping that it didn't look too strange to the girl, hanging on to an invisible limb. Alfred's thumb was still free to move, however, and it went back and forth over sensitive skin.  
  
“Master-”  
  
“No, I'm quite alright, Madeline,” he gritted out quickly, plastering a smile on his face in an attempt to free her from worry.   
  
Madeline nodded slowly, then gestured toward the teapot. “Would you like your tea now?”  
  
“No,” Arthur managed to get out, his grip on Alfred's wrist slipping as the man's fingertips met a part of him he'd rather not bring attention to at the moment. He could tell his cheeks were on fire, but did his best to ignore it. “I will pour it myself, thank you.”  
  
Madeline smiled at him through a look of slight confusion, curtsied briefly and made her way toward the door. Alfred's fingers moved more substantially then, slowly and tantalizingly up Arthur's half hard cock, and he was unable to silence his moan entirely, causing Madeline to whip around, skirts swirling, in reaction to the abrupt sound.  
  
Arthur doubled over, subtly shoving his elbow into a solid stomach before glancing up at a startled looking Madeline. “I...” Arthur trailed off, mind racing. “I must be sore from last night,” he began, only to hear a muffled guffaw from below him.  
  
Madeline's head jerked to the right, then the left, as she tried to place the sound, confusion written clearly on her face.  
  
“From the _dancing_ ,” Arthur corrected himself vehemently, then smiled sweetly as Madeline turned her questioning look on him again. “Sore from the dancing,” he repeated. “My muscles hurt.”  
  
Madeline nodded slowly, hand reaching for the door's handle. “I will notify the doctor immediately and have something sent up,” she said.  
  
“No need!” Arthur said quickly, then laughed to cover it up. “I'm sure a nice cup of tea and a good stretch will take care of it just fine.”  
  
“As you wish, Master Kirkland,” she said softly, still slightly confused. She curtsied again, then quickly left, shutting the door with an audible click.  
  
Arthur watched the door like a hawk for a couple moments, then raised his hand and let it fly with all his might in the direction he believed Alfred's stomach to be. As soon as he hit, Alfred reappeared, laughing and clutching his stomach where Arthur had hit him. The Briton wound up for another blow, but Alfred caught it this time, tugging Arthur to sprawl on top of him as he continued to chuckle.  
  
“You complete idiot!” Arthur growled, reaching for the pillow and throwing it awkwardly into Alfred's face. “What if Madeline had heard you?” he hissed.  
  
“But she didn't!” Alfred protested, removing the pillow and rolling over, taking Arthur with him.  
  
“She _could have_ ,” Arthur argued, pressing his hands into Alfred's chest as the man hovered above him. He scowled, choosing to pretend that it was his own strength that kept the fae at bay.  
  
“But she _didn't_ ,” Alfred argued back with a smile, leaning in slowly as Arthur lost his leverage against him, arms bending to allow Alfred closer. When Alfred's lips were a scant distance away from Arthur's, he murmured, “And you liked it.”  
  
Arthur narrowed his eyes at him, then quirked one eyebrow up as he trailed his hands up Alfred's chest, leaving the warm skin entirely to stretch his arms above his own head, twisting with the straining muscles as he arched his body up into Alfred's. The fae smirked.  
  
“Maybe I did,” Arthur whispered against Alfred's lips, sighing when they finally closed the distance. He enjoyed the warmth of the kiss for a long moment before his hand wrapped around the other pillow and he broke away to slam it into the side of Alfred's head.  
  
Alfred fell dramatically to the side as Arthur rose up to follow. “But that doesn't change the fact that-”  
  
“I'm hungry,” Alfred interrupted with a large smile. Arthur stopped mid-rant and blinked several times before he deflated with a resigned look, sitting back and huffing out a breath as Alfred rose and eyed the table.  
  
“All right,” Arthur said. “Let's eat.”  
  
“Yes!” Alfred said with enthusiasm, scooting past Arthur to make his way toward the breakfast tray that had been laid out earlier.   
  
Arthur scowled at Alfred as he slid from bed and grabbed his pants, tugging them on as he watched Alfred pick up a pastry and eat it with a look of immense happiness. Arthur bent to pick up Alfred's own pants and threw them at him. “Put some clothes on, at the very least.”  
  
“What,” Alfred said, turning with a smirk, “You don't like the view?” He raised an eyebrow and turned his backside toward Arthur.  
  
The Briton's cheeks heated and he scowled as he pointedly looked elsewhere. He could hear Alfred laughing, but only after the sound of shuffling clothing stopped did he turn his gaze back to his lover. Alfred sat there in the morning light, pants hastily donned and sliding precariously low on his hips as he reclined because he hadn't bothered to lace them up properly. The morning sun highlighted the plains of his chest and abdomen, the lean muscle that made up his entire upper body and the bright gold strands of his hair, disheveled from sleep. Alfred reached out and plucked a chunk of orange from the fruit bowl, popping it into his mouth and chewing idly while he licked the remaining juices from his fingertips.  
  
Arthur felt all the blood abruptly leave his face. He made his way to the table and the other chair quickly, lest Alfred notice and decide breakfast could wait while they had another round in the sheets. Arthur was very much in need of his morning tea, and while he hated to admit it, he might be a tad sore from Alfred's enthusiasm the previous night as well. All he wanted was a relaxing morning with his lover and perhaps some of the answers he'd been promised yesterday.  
  
He poured himself a cup of tea, wondering for half a moment if Alfred would like some as well before the thought passed. If the fae wanted some, they'd just have to share Arthur's cup. The Briton sat back in his chair, pulled one leg up so that he could wrap an arm around his knee and watched as Alfred popped a few more pieces of fruit into his mouth.  
  
“This is really good,” Alfred said, tongue swiping a drop of juice from his thumb before he grinned at Arthur. “Almost as good as Summer's fruit.”  
  
“Summer?” Arthur asked, tilting his head.   
  
“Yeah,” Alfred answered, nodding as he sat forward and picked up a small piece of fresh bread, pulling it slowly apart between his fingers. Arthur watched as the bread gradually split in two, the soft middle stretching briefly before breaking apart.  
  
“They always have the best fruit, you know,” Alfred continued. “But the unseelie court doesn't really have the privilege of eating it.”  
  
Arthur frowned above the rim of his teacup, his bushy eyebrows coming together in one thick line of confusion. Alfred glanced up, noted Arthur's look and then chuckled, letting the bread fall back onto the plate uneaten.  
  
“Okay, let's start from the beginning,” Alfred murmured, sitting back. Arthur smiled and set his cup down, leaning forward in interest. “There are three fairy courts,” Alfred said, holding up a hand with three fingers extended, wiggling them in front of Arthur. “Summer, Winter and the Wyldfae.  
  
“Summer and Winter rule over their respective domains, each reigning for half the year,” Alfred paused to grin, “as you may have deduced yourself. The seasons coincide with whoever is currently in power.”  
  
“So what do the Wyldfae rule over?” Arthur asked, remembering that the leader of the Hunt had been the Erlking, king of the Wyldfae. That was Alfred's family.  
  
“Well, that's kind of hard to explain,” Alfred said, gaze trailing up to the ceiling as his brows furrowed in thought. He turned back to Arthur and straightened a bit. “Creatures of Faerie aren't exactly the nicest beings around, right?”  
  
“I have faerie friends at home who are quite lovely,” Arthur argued, thinking of the small green bunny and his friend Del, a tiny fairy who all but lived in his room when he dwelled in the city.   
  
“As you said last night,” Alfred said. “They're probably from Summer. Living within a court that's always in bloom, well, I guess some of them are just as gay as their flowers are.”   
  
Alfred leaned forward. “But don't let that fool you,” he said intensely. “The little ones may not have the power or the motivation to do you any real harm, but the more powerful fae, Summer or Winter, have both the means and cunning to hurt you, and will feel nary a flick of remorse afterward.”  
  
Arthur's eyes had widened at that and Alfred gave him a reassuring smile. “That being said, Summer fae are usually more benevolent than Winter, who can be downright nasty if given the provocation. I suggest staying as far away from the unseelie court as you can.”  
  
“Okay,” Arthur murmured. “So Summer, or the seelie court, is less of a problem than Winter, who-”  
  
“Are a bunch of bastards,” Alfred finished for him, sitting back. He glanced at the ceiling. “Not that Summer hasn't given me a fair share of trouble.”  
  
“So where does that put Wyldfae?” Arthur asked. “That's what you are, yes?”  
  
Alfred smiled. “Technically, I'm half, my mother was from the Summer court. But the Wyldfae are the darker version of Winter.”  
  
“Darker?” Arthur prompted.  
  
Alfred's smile turned into a small grimace. “Yeah, the Erlking doesn't really associate with the Summer or Winter courts, he's pretty ambivalent about their intrigue and internal battles. He hangs out with the more violent fae, the ones you'd really, really want to stay away from.”  
  
“And you're one of these...” Arthur trailed off, almost apprehensive. “Darker fae?”  
  
Alfred was silent for a long moment and Arthur took several drinks of his warm tea to hide his anxiety. If what Alfred was saying was indeed true, he was, in a way, advising Arthur to stay away from Alfred himself. Arthur was beginning to realize that what he knew about the faerie world was incredibly limited and the more he heard from Alfred, he began to see why such ignorance could prove to be dangerous.  
  
“I won't lie to you, Arthur,” Alfred finally said, moving up and out of his chair and making his way toward Arthur. “I'm not some fairy godmother who'll grant you wishes and give you pretty shoes.”  
  
Arthur swallowed loudly and set his teacup down, leg slowly sliding to the floor as Alfred leaned in close, hands braced on the arms of the chair. “But I won't hurt you either,” he whispered, leaning in close. His lips brushed against Arthur's and the Briton closed his eyes.  
  
“Promise?” Arthur asked.  
  
Alfred pressed their lips together briefly, then pulled away to chuckle. Arthur opened his eyes to watch as he sat back down. “Fae can't lie, Arthur,” Alfred said. “Did you know that?”  
  
Arthur felt his heart do a little flip at the admission and raised his cup to take a sip of tea to hide the fact that he didn't know what to say to that. When he finished, he cleared his throat softly. “Duly noted,” he murmured and Alfred grinned.  
  
“And besides,” Alfred said, giving Arthur a wink. “I'm also half Summer.”  
  
“So where does that put you?”   
  
The fae laughed outright. “Technically, somewhere in Winter. But it doesn't matter so much who your parents are, it's who you choose to ally yourself with.”  
  
Arthur was pretty sure Alfred's participation in the Hunt proved which side he'd chosen, so he didn't bother asking.  
  
“What was the Hunt, then?” he asked instead, almost hesitantly. He still wasn't entirely sure what had gone on that night, particularly what had been running through his veins, heightening his senses, his physical ability and, most disturbingly, his lust for both prey and...other things. He wasn't even completely sure he _wanted_ to know.  
  
“The Hunt,” Alfred said, taking a bite out of the bread and swallowing, “is a gathering of the more violent and predatory creatures of the Nevernever, mostly beings found within the realm of the Wyldfae; although it's not unheard of for Winter denizens to go along for the ride if they want.”  
  
“And they just...” Arthur trailed off.  
  
“Hunt,” Alfred finished for him. Arthur smiled, but Alfred's face stayed neutral as he continued. “I've seen humans hunt, and the Hunt is a bit like when they hunt foxes; all the higher fae are on horseback, usually big black beasts, and the lesser creatures will run on foot.”  
  
“And they hunt those goblin things that we- they were after when I was there?”  
  
Alfred shook his head, eyebrows dipping into a frown. “No, Arthur.”  
  
The Briton was confused. “What do you hunt then?”  
  
“Anything,” Alfred murmured softly, staring at the plate of pastries blankly. “Everything we come across. Nothing is safe from the Hunt.”  
  
Arthur sat in shocked silence for a long moment, then set down his tea cup and sat back, denial shining in his eyes. “But I wasn't hunted,” he argued.  
  
“That's because you _joined_ the Hunt,” Alfred explained urgently, finally raising his head to look Arthur in the eyes.  
  
 _The hunted must become the hunter! Ye have been caught, there is naught else to be done!_  
  
Arthur blinked at the memory. The tiny faerie had said as much, and Arthur could remember a distinct feeling of affiliation once they'd joined the rest of the hunting party, the sense of brotherhood, a connection that kept them from pouncing on Arthur himself, a human and clearly a lesser predator than they were.  
  
“And you did well, Arthur,” Alfred said fiercely, his voice slipping into an accent he'd never heard before; his words were rounder, slower, with more of an emphasis on the Rs in his name. He frowned.  
  
“Will it happen again?” Arthur asked quietly.  
  
Alfred sat back from where he'd been leaning over the table and raised his hand, waving it as if to brush off Arthur's question. “No,” he said easily, then tilted his head. “Well, yes, technically, but not for a long while. The Hunt only happens every five or six years.”  
  
“I'm twenty-three,” Arthur said, “and I don't remember anything like this happening here before.”  
  
“It can happen anywhere,” Alfred explained, the smile back in his voice. “And not always on Samhain, though it does generally occur during the fall or winter, during the turnover of power to the Queen of Winter.”  
  
Arthur nodded, taking another sip of his tea.   
  
“But we can talk more about this later,” Alfred said, finishing off his bread. “We've got more important things to do now.”  
  
“Like?” Arthur prompted, picking at a piece of bread himself.  
  
“You'll see,” Alfred said with a smirk.  
  
x o x  
  
Arthur hadn't exactly been keen on cutting their conversation short. There were still many things he wanted to know about the world of faerie, both to be properly prepared for anything that might come his way and to sate his own curiosity. But after they'd both dressed and snuck out of Arthur's room, Alfred had led him to the manor's garden, turning through the myriad of halls as if he'd lived there all his life.  
  
Once there, they'd made their way through the paths edged with matted greens and the beginnings of brighter colors, bits of yellow and red on those leaves that had taken to the season early. Autumn was Arthur's favorite season; he liked the warm tones of the changing leaves, the cooler temperatures that made it just chilly enough to huddle into your jacket or scarf, made you long for a soft chair and a warm cup of tea after enjoying the scenery outside. And there was something in the air, a scent he couldn't quite describe past simply 'autumn,' that he wished he could bottle. It was the change in the wind, the smell of fallen leaves, pumpkins and cider, that all coalesced into a thick haze of perfect calm.  
  
It wasn't quiet autumn yet, but the garden, in between the beautiful blossoms of spring and the ever changing colors of fall, was very pretty despite. Arthur was almost sad to leave it when Alfred led him all the way through and into the forest beyond, where they'd met for the very first time.  
  
As they made their way to the exact clearing, the memories flooded Arthur's mind, making him blush slightly. Alfred glanced back at him and the Englishman tried his hardest to make it look like it was just the wind chafing his cheeks, not the memory of their first night together. But by the quirk of Alfred's immediate smile, Arthur knew he'd failed.  
  
“Where exactly are you taking me?” he asked, scowl firmly in place.   
  
“Just wait,” Alfred said with a laugh. He slowed to a stop, then gave Arthur one last smile before turning and addressing, seemingly, the forest itself.  
  
“Water Elfglow,” he said loudly.  
  
A few moments passed where nothing happened. Arthur was about to ask what Alfred was doing just standing there when two little lights zipped into the clearing they were standing in, flitted about the two of them in what seemed to be a race, before landing on Alfred's shoulder. The glow faded somewhat and Arthur could see that they were two tiny faeries, currently involved in arguing over who got to stand on Alfred's shoulder.   
  
They were both about six inches tall, with dark hair that seemed perpetually mussed from their constant and rapid flight. The one with the yellow wings was actively trying to wrap the other, who had blue wings, in a tight embrace, but the tiny faerie was having none of it. He pushed and shoved at the yellow winged faerie, shoving his tiny hand into a tiny face and almost losing his balance entirely as he finally managed to break the embrace. The yellow faerie planted his feet and put his hands on his hips, sticking his tongue out at his companion as he hovered nearby.  
  
“Elfglow,” Alfred said, gaining the faerie's attention. He took flight again, resting on Alfred's hand when he held it out and looked up into the bigger fae's face.  
  
“Yes, my lord?” he asked, evidently thoroughly excited about being called upon by Alfred.  
  
“I have someone I'd like you to meet,” Alfred said easily. He shifted his gaze to the side and frowned. “Why is Bramble with you?” he asked.  
  
“Oh,” Elfglow said, “He's lonely because he's so grumpy all the time, so he follows me. I met a snail the other day that said he slept for three years. Three! I think that's pretty amazing. I certainly don't think I could sleep for three years because I like being awake. Maybe I could stay awake for three years? That would be hard. Pasta kind of makes me sleepy and I really like pasta, so I probably couldn't stay awake that long.”  
  
Alfred blinked and obviously decided to disregard ninety percent of Elfglow's answer, gesturing to Arthur. “This is my friend, Arthur.”  
  
They both looked at him, but Arthur was busy trying to get Bramble to leave him alone. The faerie was tugging on Arthur's bangs, twisting them this way and that, swinging back and forth in front of Arthur's face, and the Englishman prayed his tiny little feet would miss his eyes as he flailed about. Finally the faerie stilled, taking hold of a chunk of Arthur's hair and planting his feet on Arthur's cheeks, scowling viciously at him.  
  
As viciously as a tiny faerie could accomplish, anyway.  
  
“Bramble Rainbowglow,” Alfred said, “Stop picking on Arthur.”  
  
The faerie gave one last ferocious tug before launching himself into the air, turning on Alfred and shaking a finger at him. “Don't call me that!”  
  
Alfred laughed as the blue faerie tilted his head in confusion. “But that's your name, brother.”  
  
“It's not!” the other argued, then flew at his brother, toppling them both from Alfred's hand.  
  
Arthur watched as they zipped around their heads in another race, but turned to Alfred when he spoke.  
  
“Sorry about that. Dewdrop faeries aren't known for their attention spans and they can be a little mischievous, but they're generally harmless.”  
  
“Dewdrop faeries,” Arthur echoed, eyes following the tiny blue and yellow lights once more.  
  
“They belong to Summer,” Alfred explained. “I wanted you to meet some fae, and I'm not exactly worried about these guys harming you.”  
  
As they both watched the dewdrop faeries chase each other, Arthur had to admit that Alfred was probably right. The little fae probably didn't have enough of an attention span to focus on harming Arthur long enough to actually give him any sort of injury. Plus, they didn't seem to have the same aura about them as Alfred or any of the fae from the Hunt did. If Arthur could describe what they felt like, he might say they were gleefully capricious, warm and very bright. They were fun to watch.  
  
“Why doesn't Bramble like being called by his name?” Arthur asked.  
  
“Oh,” Alfred mumbled through a chuckle. “He's under the impression that his name has changed to Lovino, thanks to another fae's inability to keep a straight face when saying his actual name.”  
  
Arthur raised an eyebrow at him.  
  
“Just call him Lovino, otherwise he might start pinching you in odd places,” Alfred suggested.  
  
“And his brother?” Arthur asked, head turning slightly toward a noise behind them. “Do I call him...what was it?” he asked, turning back to Alfred.  
  
“Elfglow,” Alfred explained, smiling at the two fairies who seemed to be at a stalemate, using Arthur's head as a barrier between them. “I don't think he minds, but the Summer Knight did give him one so that he wouldn't feel left out. You can call him Feliciano.”  
  
Upon hearing Alfred speak of the Summer Knight, Elfglow, or Feliciano rather, flitted over to hover in front of Alfred's face. “Have you spoken to the Summer Knight recently?” he asked with obvious excitement.  
  
Alfred didn't get a chance to answer before Lovino had properly used the distraction to tackle his brother in midair, sending them spiraling to the ground. They separated just before they hit and took off chasing one another again.   
  
“You stay away from that bastard!” Lovino yelled as they zipped by Arthur's head. “That Knight is just a stupid potato freak!”  
  
Feliciano curved in a sharp turn and changed the direction of the chase as he went after his brother, who was now fleeing. “Ludwig is nice!” he argued back. “He always helps me out and he can tie shoelaces and he's not a potato leak!”  
  
“Freak!” Lovino cried back. “ _Freak!_ And stop praising him so much!”  
  
Arthur smiled at their fight, then turned his head again when he heard the noise from earlier, only louder, closer. He frowned as he searched the sparse woods at their backs, just thin enough to be able to see the gardens they'd come from and-  
  
“My father!” Arthur hissed, turning to Alfred and shaking his arm. “My father is coming!”  
  
Alfred let out a sudden and abrupt whistle, gaining both the faeries' attentions. “Human,” he said, and the two immediately tried to hide in the same pocket of Alfred's long coat. They fought, pushing each other in an attempt to get into the pocket first before Alfred shooed Lovino in Arthur's direction. Out of choices, the grumpier of the two dewdrop faeries flew into the gap between Arthur's coat and his shirt, his tiny hands grasping on to the material as Arthur turned to greet his father.  
  
“My boy, there you are!” Lord Kirkland called, smile planted firmly on his face. “I've been looking all over for you.”  
  
“Apologies, Father,” Arthur said. “I've been showing my new acquaintance the grounds.”  
  
Lord Kirkland stopped and turned to Alfred. “Ah, Mr. Jones, was it?”  
  
Arthur nodded and turned and almost stuttered to a stop when he saw that Alfred had donned the same pair of glasses he had the night before in the ten seconds Arthur had been turned in the opposite direction. The wire frames made him look slightly older, possibly more respectable, but thankfully didn't take anything away from the vibrant blue of his eyes.  
  
“Yes,” Arthur managed to say after only a slight pause in which he caught himself beginning to stare. “I invited him to last night's party,” he explained, remembering that he hadn't introduced Alfred himself last night, disguised as Lady Jones as he was.  
  
“I hope you don't mind that I took you up on your offer to stay, Lord Kirkland,” the fae said, smiling widely. “I quite enjoy your son's company.”  
  
“I'm glad you finally found him,” Arthur's father said, giving Arthur a look. “Where is your darling sister?”  
  
“She left early this morning, I'm afraid,” Alfred said, smile dimming. “She will leave for home tomorrow morning.”  
  
“I hope she makes the journey safely,” Lord Kirkland said sincerely. He turned to his son. “It's a shame she couldn't stay longer; I think you would have gotten along quite well with her, Arthur.”  
  
“She was a lovely young woman,” Arthur agreed, hoping the strain in his smile didn't give his secret away outright.  
  
“She did leave quite an impression, though,” Lord Kirkland continued, giving Alfred a smirk. “The ladies of the court are in an uproar, I've heard, trying to copy your sister's fashion. That dress must have been something else.”  
  
“It is the fashion where we come from,” Alfred said, slight surprise in his tone. “I though nothing of it when she wore it.”  
  
“Indeed,” Lord Kirkland said, chuckling. “Nonetheless, my wife is very interested in ordering a dress similar to your sister's, though how she'll do it with the girl bound for the New World on the morrow is quite beyond me.”  
  
Alfred laughed as Arthur paled beside him. He'd made more of an impression on the court than he'd really wanted to in the guise of Lady Isabel Jones. He hoped he wasn't blushing too badly.  
  
“A conundrum, if I've ever heard one,” Alfred agreed. “I'm afraid she'll have to use her imagination.”   
  
“Indeed,” Lord Kirkland murmured, clearly amused. He cleared his throat. “You are more than welcome to stay with me and my family in the city if you'd like, take in the sights and whatnot. I'm still interested in hearing more about the New World, if you'd be willing to offer up some of your time.”  
  
Arthur's father then turned to his son with a small grimace. “Unfortunately, I must cut my vacation short. I'm needed in the city for something that simply cannot wait, according to your uncle. I must leave by this afternoon.”  
  
Arthur frowned. “Am I to join you? I haven't prepared for a journey.”  
  
“Och, no,” Lord Kirkland said, slapping Arthur's back in a fatherly gesture of reassurance. Arthur tried not to flinch. “You can stay as long as you'd like, just thought I'd let you know that I'm leaving.”  
  
Arthur nodded, suffered through another overly forceful pat and watched his father turn to leave. “And make sure you bring Mr. Jones with you, my boy!” he yelled over his shoulder. Alfred and Arthur watched him raise a hand in a wave and then disappear from sight as he entered the gardens.  
  
There was silence for a long moment, then Arthur turned to Alfred, blushing only a little as he said, “Would you like to come to the cit-eeeeeeOW!”  
  
Arthur twitched violently when the faerie who'd been hiding beneath his coat decided to make himself known once more by pinching him. Hard. In the arse.  
  
Lovino flew out, wings buzzing rapidly as he made a circuit around Arthur's head, tugging at stray locks of hair as Englishman tried to dodge.  
  
“What the- Stop!” he yelled, hands trying to brush the faerie away. “Behave yourself!”  
  
Feliciano flew out of Alfred's pocket, but made no moves to stop his brother from tormenting Arthur. Instead, he flitted back and forth in front of Alfred, keeping the fae's attention focused on his rapid movements.  
  
“Ve,” he said with excitement. “Can I come with you? I've always wanted to see the city but Ludwig says it's dangerous and that I shouldn't go by myself. Or with Lovino either, since he's small and angry and can't do much besides pinch and yell at people. But if I go with a higher fae I should be okay, right? Right?”  
  
“Sure,” Alfred said, and both the fae turned as Lovino finally stopped pulling Arthur's hair and glared at them.   
  
“Then I'm going too!”  
  
x o x

The rest of their stay at the Kirkland's country manor went by smoothly. There was less staff there because his father had left, making it easier to hide the fact that Alfred wasn't using the guest room the maids had set up for him. Arthur was incredibly pleased that his father wouldn't be there to host any more parties and that when they finally made it to his city home, the man would likely be too busy with work to make much of a fuss about Arthur's lack in a social life. Hopefully his father would also be too busy to speak with Alfred for any length of time. Arthur didn't know much about the new world, but he was pretty sure Alfred had just pulled it out of his arse as an excuse for not being known.  
  
They stayed for another week before Feliciano's whining finally convinced them it was time to head for the more exciting life of the city. Upon hearing of their impending trip, the dewdrop faery was so happy that he'd flown in a brightly colored circle so fast that when he'd attempted to break the pattern he'd accidentally flung himself straight into the window. That, in turn, had caused Lovino to laugh so hard that he'd fallen mid-flight. Thankfully, both fae were relatively unharmed.  
  
The ride back to the city was uneventful. His father's standing had provided them with an escort and a carriage, if they'd wanted, but Alfred had chosen to ride out in the open and so Arthur had joined him. The two dewdrop fairies had made menaces of themselves for the first hour of the journey and had apparently tired themselves out in the process of playing 'I Bet You Can't Pinch That Guy In The XXX Without Getting Caught!' They had spent the rest of the trip sleeping in Alfred's coat pockets.  
  
Although Arthur was unable to speak completely freely with Alfred, too afraid that their escort would overhear them, conversation flowed smoothly. Alfred told stories that weren't altogether impossible to imagine in the human realm and Arthur had to wonder if he was making them up or if he'd just altered true stories to be free of any fae. One such story was interrupted just on the outskirts of the city, when Alfred caught sight of a fox that had walked out into the open road.  
  
Arthur turned his head and his eyes widened. It was the fox that often came to visit him with his other fae friends. It didn't have a name, and to be completely honest, Arthur wasn't even sure what gender it was because it never talked or interacted with the others, so the fox had yet to receive a name. It usually just sat on Arthur's window ledge, or on his desk, watching. At first Arthur had been wary; the smaller fae could have easily been caught as they flitted around his room and the fox always watched everything with slanted, intense eyes, as if merely waiting for a chance. But it soon became apparent that the fox had no intentions of hurting the smaller fae and Arthur began to find its presence incredibly soothing.  
  
Which is why he was a little worried when the fox showed itself so openly on the road. Arthur glanced at the men in his escort, but none of them seemed to have noticed. His gaze went back to the fox as they neared it, widening when it stood and began walking with them, very near Arthur's horse.  
  
“Do not worry,” Alfred said lowly, out of range of their escort's hearing. “They cannot see him.”  
  
Arthur glanced at Alfred, then back to the fox. His red fur was shining in the morning light and his black paws were sleek and quick as he kept pace with their horses. Arthur relaxed a bit when the fox gave him a glance, as if to reassure him, and the Englishman turned once more to Alfred. He didn't know quite what he wanted to ask the fae. Did he know the fox? Were there others like him? Why did this particular one decide to hang around Arthur?  
  
Alfred seemed to read all of those questions and more in his gaze and he laughed lowly, eyes closing with his amusement. When he opened them, his eyes were shining.  
  
“He was worried at your long absence,” Alfred explained easily. “He is merely making sure you are safe.”  
  
Arthur's gaze must of have begged the question _why_ , because Alfred answered, “I'll explain later, okay?” Then the fae moved his gaze deliberately to the men ahead of them and Arthur nodded in understanding.  
  
The fox followed them into the city and Arthur worried briefly that it would be hit by the many people and carts that flowed up and down the busy city streets. But the fox was small and agile and had no trouble dodging anything that got too close, sometimes darting to weave in between the legs of Arthur's horse to avoid children running wild. Arthur was unsure when it happened, but when they arrived at his city home, the fox had disappeared.   
  
After dropping their things off, Alfred insisted they see the city and Arthur was in no position to deny that smile anything. The two faeries that had been sleeping awoke and buzzed about inside Alfred's long, loose coat as their excitement rose. They eventually peaked their heads out, darted looks this way and then and then took off in a shower of colored sparks. Arthur tried to call out to them, afraid of what might happen to them in the city if they were by themselves, but Alfred reassured him that they would likely be fine. Arthur was still slightly worried about the two, but refocused his attention on Alfred. He was of a mind to guide Alfred to some of his favorite places in the city, but the fae seemed to know exactly where he was going. What's more, he seemed to have a specific destination in mind.  
  
“Where are we going?” Arthur asked. “I thought this was your first time to the city.”  
  
“It is,” Alfred agreed. “And it's pretty amazing. I had no idea a place could be so crowded.”  
  
Alfred didn't offer any further answer than that and Arthur let it go, following the fae through busy streets, into a tight web of alleyways and to a familiar book store in the heart of the city. He smiled when Alfred made to enter the store; Arthur hadn't been here in a while and he always liked looking through the odd collection of old and rare books that the shopkeeper kept. He liked the owner immensely, a quiet and unobtrusive Japanese man who spoke enough English to be able to hold an intelligent conversation with Arthur. He'd also been teaching Arthur Japanese, slowly and with great difficulty, whenever Arthur had a spare afternoon.  
  
The small bell on the door rang softly as they entered and Arthur's smile widened when the owner looked up from where he was reading a book at the front counter.  
  
“Honda-san,” Arthur said, using the Japanese honorifics to show he hadn't completely been ignoring his studies. “ _Konnichiwa._ ”  
  
“Kirkland-san,” the man said in return, smiling. “ _Hisashiburi desu_.”  
  
Arthur laughed, then turned to gesture toward Alfred. “This is my friend Alfred Jones. Alfred, this is Kiku Honda.”  
  
Alfred smiled. “We've met.”  
  
Arthur's eyes widened. “Really? When?”  
  
“Just before we got to the city,” Alfred explained, giving Arthur a look that said he had a secret that he was dying to tell, but he really wanted Arthur to guess at it first.  
  
“Just before we...” Arthur trailed off. He glanced at Kiku, who had closed his book and set it to the side.  
  
“I am glad to learn that you have been safe during your trip to the country, Arthur,” Kiku said.  
  
And then it clicked and Arthur's eyes got wide as he looked at Kiku more thoroughly. “You're the – but you can't be, you're...”  
  
“I apologize for keeping secrets,” Kiku said, bowing slightly. “But I do so enjoy our time together.”  
  
“Kiku is a _kitsune_ ,” Alfred said helpfully, turning to the Japanese man. “That means fox spirit, right?”  
  
Kiku nodded with an amused smile. “Close enough anyway.”  
  
“How can you be human and a fox?” Arthur asked.  
  
“I have two forms,” Kiku explained. “I first met you in my fox form, but your abilities are not yet strong enough to converse that way, so I sought you out in my human form instead.”  
  
Arthur was silent for a moment before he let out a soft chuckle, mouth quirking on one side. “I never even thought to make the connection.”  
  
Kiku smiled at him. “It is quite all right, Arthur. I enjoy my time in both forms.”  
  
“And you knew he was here?” Arthur asked Alfred. “How?”  
  
“He told me,” Alfred said easily, shrugging.  
  
Arthur laughed and thought back to Alfred's very first explanation of the fae, when they had been ensconced in the low lights of a dance hall, voices gossiping all around them.   
  
_The world is full of fae, Arthur. They are all around us._  
  
“All around us, huh?” Arthur echoed.  
  
Alfred swung an arm around his shoulders, nose burying itself in Arthur's hair as the fae smiled widely. “Told you.”  
  
x o x  
  
Arthur left Kiku's store feeling content and happy. They'd talked for a long while, Kiku had served them tea and he'd gotten to learn even more about Alfred's, and now Kiku's, world. He'd listened, enraptured, to the long and interesting story of the _kitsune_ , fox spirits who had a tendency to involve themselves, in one way or another, in the human world. Kiku hadn't exactly explained why he'd chosen to shadow Arthur, but the Englishman had enjoyed his story, and the knowledge that came with it, so much that he didn't really mind letting Kiku keep that one little secret.   
  
He had a feeling it embarrassed the fox anyway.  
  
He and Alfred left the shop as the light began to fade, the lanterns that lined the streets being lit to help those you were still out and about navigate their way home. In the darkness of the poorly lit alleys, Alfred had tucked Arthur's hand in his, pulled him to the side and kissed him. Arthur melted into it, hands coming up to grasp at Alfred's hips as he met Alfred's warmth and enthusiasm with his own.  
  
When they parted, Alfred ran his lips over Arthur's cheek, up near the side of his eye and finally to his forehead, where he lingered. Arthur didn't quite understand Alfred's seeming infatuation with his forehead, but it made the butterflies that had taken up permanent residence within his stomach flutter to life every time he did it, so Arthur found he didn't really mind.  
  
“We shall work on your senses,” Alfred murmured to him, hands rubbing up and down Arthur's upper arms in an effort to keep the chill from affecting him. “So that you will be more aware of your surroundings.”  
  
“Will I be able to talk to Kiku?” Arthur asked, smiling.  
  
“In time,” Alfred said with a smile. “But I want you to be...” Alfred trailed off, eyes leaving Arthur's upturned face to gaze off to the right. His brows furrowed slightly.  
  
“What?” Arthur asked, glancing in the same direction. There was nothing but more alley that way, cloaked in quickly descending darkness.  
  
“I want you to be prepared for anything,” Alfred said, eyes not moving from whatever had caught his attention. “I'll worry less if I know you can handle yourself.”  
  
Arthur felt his cheeks warm at the implication that statement held, and he didn't know why he felt so suddenly warm but he turned his gaze to Alfred's chest as he tried to calm his blush. “I'm not completely helpless,” he grumbled in an attempt to hide his embarrassment.  
  
“No,” Alfred said distractedly. “And honestly, I'll always worry, but it would...”  
  
Arthur looked up again, embarrassment forgotten as Alfred once again trailed off in the middle of a thought. He was still focused on the alley to his right and his frown had gotten deeper.   
  
“Alfred, what-” Arthur started, getting irritated at Alfred's odd behavior. But Alfred put a hand over his mouth and shook his head, gaze still unmoving.  
  
“Quiet,” he murmured. “Something followed us here.”  
  
Arthur whipped his head in the same direction as Alfred's gaze, his eyes widening and then narrowing as he tried to see anything within the shadows of the alley. But he could see nothing, however, not even a glimmer of movement, and he started to get frustrated with himself. Alfred was being entirely too serious for this to be some sort of joke, and he trusted the fae to keep them away from trouble, but the fact that he couldn't even see what was coming for them was making him angrier and more frustrated by the minute.  
  
“Arthur,” Alfred said quietly. “I need you to stay behind me.”  
  
“Why?” Arthur asked, watching as Alfred moved to place himself between Arthur and whatever it was that was hiding in the darkness. He peaked around Alfred, but still couldn't see anything.  
  
“Because I don't want you to get hurt,” Alfred said.   
  
Arthur wanted to scoff and tell the fae that he was perfectly capable of taking care of himself, but as he reached down to pull out the knife he always kept in his boot, his nerves began to sing with warning and his words were lost before they made it past his lips. He shivered violently as something washed over him, something thick and cloying, and then Alfred was moving as Arthur's eyes finally registered movement in the shadows.  
  
Alfred didn't let the thing get very far out of its cover before attacking, pulling a pair of knives out of nowhere and slashing rapidly as his feet took him so far into the shadows, Arthur lost sight of him for a moment. When he came back into the scant light of the lone street light at the end of the alley, Arthur could see a pool of dark liquid gliding through the cracks in the cobblestones beneath his feet.   
  
He had a brief war with his gag reflex before he got it under control and thought, _that wasn't as bad as I'd thought._  
  
But then the ground beneath his very feet began to shake and rumble and the building he was leaning against vibrated with movement. Arthur looked up, trying to see what was happening, and found Alfred standing just outside the darkest part of the shadows, waiting with hands poised. He'd lost his daggers and Arthur wanted to scream at him that something else was coming, something big enough to shake the ground, and that Alfred had to find _something_ to fight with.   
  
“Alfred!” he shouted, taking a step in his direction and ready to throw his own weapon to the fae as soon as Alfred turned around. But he didn't turn.  
  
Instead, Arthur watched as black shapes, hairy and disjointed, flew out of the darkness at Alfred. Their arms were longer than their legs, like gorillas, but their faces were closer to that of a boar and their claws looked as sharp as eagle's talons. Arthur had no idea what they were, where they'd come from, but they looked hungry and eager for violence as they threw themselves at Alfred.  
  
The rumbling increased and Arthur had to plant his hand on the building to steady himself as he watched in silent amazement as vines as thick as his arms and black as night began to weave themselves out from in between the cobblestones, shooting out from where they'd wrapped themselves around the buildings. The vines moved as if they were alive and sentient, motivated by deadly intent, and Arthur felt his throat constrict as they shot themselves toward where Alfred was standing.   
  
Arthur felt absolutely useless, unable to do anything but cry out in an attempt to warn his lover of the coming danger, and even then, Alfred didn't seem to be able to hear him.  
  
The nearest vine wrapped around his waist and lifted him clear into the air and Arthur squawked in surprise as he dropped his blade. He watched as it fell to the ground and then his gaze moved to the side, stunned to find one of the black creatures standing where he'd been a few moments before, growling in rage and slashing a clawed hand at Arthur's feet.  
  
Then Arthur watched as another vine wrapped itself violently around the thing's neck and tightened, lifting it only slightly before whipping it into the nearest wall. The creature's head was cracked open and it flopped lifelessly to the ground as the vine detached itself and moved away, and Arthur hung there in silence.  
  
The vines were helping him. He moved his hands against the one that held him up, noticing through his panic that the hold was just tight enough to keep him from falling. It wasn't squeezing him to death like it had the creature before, nor was it swinging him into the nearest brick wall. Arthur turned his gaze quickly to where Alfred still stood and felt a slow grin spread across his face as he realized that the vines were _Alfred's_ , that they were being controlled by the fae to destroy the creatures that had come after them.   
  
Alfred's daggers had reappeared and he was slashing at the black creatures wherever he could, leaving trails of thick black liquid to drip onto the street as he made his way through the thick weave of vines that had trapped most of them. A few still ran loose, but Alfred seemed not to care, focused instead on something directly in front of him.  
  
He jumped back from where he was standing as a large axe came down to land right where he'd been just moments before and the reason Alfred hadn't bothered with the few creatures left alive became apparent as a new figure stepped into the scant lighting of the alley. The newcomer lifted the axe and threw it over his shoulder as he took another step toward Alfred, a slow smile splitting his face as he did so. Arthur was still within the grasp of the vine and he was sure that this new creature was someone from Alfred's line, a higher fae who's appearance was almost entirely human, if you ignored the odd ice blue of his eyes and the slightly pointed tips of his ears.  
  
“You're getting sloppy, wyldfae,” the newcomer said.   
  
“The fuck I am,” Alfred responded, shifting his weight. “You're a goddamned cheat, sending those things in to do your dirty work. Whatever happened to a fair fight?”  
  
“Ah, little one,” the fae said happily, shrugging his shoulders. “I never fight fair if I can help it.”  
  
“Who sent you?” Alfred gritted out.  
  
“Does it matter?” the fae asked, dodging the question. He hefted his axe back into his hands and wound up for a swing. “You'll be dead in a few moments anyway.”  
  
And with that, the two were in motion once more. The new fae was swinging his axe in motions that belied the obvious heft of the weapon, almost too swift at times for Arthur to comprehend, and he knew that if the fae had been normal - _human_ \- he never would've been able to accomplish such a feat. But no matter how fast the fae swung that deadly axe, Alfred was quicker, and his lover used that fact to his advantage as often as possible.  
  
The axe swung just over Alfred's ducked head, too close for Arthur's comfort as he hung, suspended and useless, from the Alfred's vine. Alfred followed the path of the weapon as it swung away, using the momentum of the swing as he grabbed the fae's arm and flung him into the nearest wall. The sound was cacophonous and _loud_ and Arthur had no idea how no one had heard them yet and come running down the alley to investigate. He almost wished someone would.  
  
“You've been training, wyldfae,” the fae called as he climbed out of the wreckage. He tossed the axe to the side and drew two daggers very similar to Alfred's own. “I would be lying if I said I was not pleasantly surprised.”  
  
Alfred was silent, eyes narrowed as he shifted his weight from foot to foot in anticipation of the enemy's next movement. Arthur watched in bated silence, grabbing onto the vine that held him as it loosened marginally. He blinked, took his eyes off the fight for a moment, and realized that Alfred's concentration must be shifting, unable or unwilling to spend anymore on controlling the vines.   
  
Arthur's head snapped up as his eyes widened as he caught movement out of the corner of his eye. One of the creatures from before, one that must have escaped the deadly reach of Alfred's vines, threw himself at Alfred's face in a vicious attack. Arthur opened his mouth to yell, but the warning got caught in his throat as it closed in panic and fear, and nothing came out.  
  
Alfred saw the creature, turned to bring up one of his daggers in a vicious and deadly arch across the thing's belly, ripping it open in one swift move and spraying thick, black blood all over himself in the process. Arthur let out a sigh of relief, but it was short lived as he realized the creature hadn't actually meant to harm Alfred. Alfred seemed to realize this at the exact same moment and turned hurriedly to face his opponent again.  
  
But it was too late. The distraction had worked and Alfred's upper body jerked as one of the enemy's daggers buried itself deep into his shoulder. Alfred staggered back a step and managed to dodge the slash of the second dagger, and the vine holding Arthur abruptly lost all of its tension, dropping the Englishman to the ground. Arthur caught himself and glanced up, watched as Alfred's hand reached up to rip the dagger out of his shoulder and toss it to the side.   
  
The fae was closing in again, slashing at Alfred's vulnerable middle in quick motions that Alfred had no choice but to dodge or block, and the wound in his left shoulder was hampering his ability to do the second effectively. Arthur wasn't as skilled in fighting as Alfred obviously was, but he knew enough to see that Alfred was on the defensive, that the enemy had the advantage, and that the fight would come to a conclusion within the next few minutes.  
  
Arthur's breath froze in his lungs as he felt that empty, panic-ridden feeling of utter _helplessness_ rip through him again. This fight wasn't like the Hunt, he didn't have that heightened feeling of feral bloodlust running through his veins, didn't feel the overwhelming urge to lash out and do violence like he had on that night. During the Hunt, Arthur hadn't been frightened. Once he'd landed beside Alfred on the battlefield, he'd seen nothing but red chaos as the battle raged around him, had felt nothing but the overwhelming need to prove his worth to Alfred, to prove that he could come out on top.  
  
Right now, all he felt was fear. His body was frozen with it, his breath choppy and uneven as he felt the adrenaline in his blood screaming at him to _run_. And he could. He could run now and hope - _oh god, he could just hope_ \- that Alfred managed to win, came and found him and took him home. He didn't even want to entertain the idea of Alfred losing, but Arthur himself was all but useless in this fight, there really wasn't any reason for him to stay.  
  
Right?  
  
Arthur let his breath out in a shaky exhale as he glanced down to the ground he was crouched on, to the dagger that he'd dropped earlier, lying there in a pool of thick, black blood. He picked it up, felt the weight of it in his hands, the _promise_ of blood in the sharpness of its blade, and looked back up to the fight before him. Alfred dodged another swing and managed to slash a line of red in one of the enemy fae's thighs, spraying red across the fae's clothing as he jumped back. Alfred's chest heaved as he panted, his eyes narrowed against the pain as he favored that left shoulder. He'd lost one of his daggers and -   
  
Arthur couldn't run. His legs would only ever take him in one direction, and he knew that he would never regret that decision.  
  
He considered the dagger in his hand once more before letting it drop to the ground. It was for personal defense, a sharp edge to fend off anyone who thought he was an easy mark, and its weight was unbalanced enough that it would throw him off. His eyes scanned the ground for the dagger that had caught Alfred in the shoulder, the one he'd thrown away after pulling it out and – there it was. Lying not five feet away, in the shadow of the fight before him. That was what he needed.  
  
Arthur looked up, eyes following the movements of the two fae still engaged in close combat, took as much time as he thought he could spare to memorize the rhythm of their movements, until he thought he could anticipate their advances and retreats well enough. If they used their magic, it would throw him off because he didn't know how to anticipate that kind of skill. But it looked as if they were engaged in a fight of physical strength, almost unwilling to use magic at all. Arthur had no idea why they wouldn't use their magic, but he wasn't going to complain.   
  
Arthur took a fortifying breath, pushed down the panicky fear that still had a tight lock on his lungs and pushed himself to his feet, crouched low. Then he ran, his feet pounding dully against the stones beneath him, carrying him in that one direction he seemed helpless to turn away from. His eyes followed Alfred's movements until he dropped his gaze to the dagger below, blinked the frustrated tears from his eyes and turned his body into a crouching slide against the street.  
  
“ _Alfred!_ ” he screamed as his hand dropped, his fingers closed around the grip of the enemy's dagger and he used his gathered momentum to spring up from his crouch.  
  
He succeeded in gaining his lover's attention and Alfred's head whipped in his direction, but Arthur wasn't looking at wide blue eyes. He was watching as icy blue narrowed in victory, as that god damned smirk grew as an opening presented itself, as the hand holding that one last dagger drew back and aimed for Alfred's throat. Arthur focused once more on that face, the fae's expression set in assured triumph, and he flipped the dagger in his hand so that he held the blade. Then he took one last step, planted his feet and threw.  
  
Arthur wasn't as skilled in swordplay or hand-to-hand as Alfred was. His father was often too busy to teach him, and his brothers were all many years his senior and hadn't deigned to practice with their unskilled younger brother. But Arthur had been forced to accompany them to the armory and practice fields nonetheless, and there were other skills that one could practice without the need for a partner. Archery, for example, which Arthur excelled at.  
  
And throwing daggers.  
  
He watched with bated breath as metal flashed in the low light of the alley, as the dagger tumbled end over end through the air. While Alfred had been easily distracted by his lover's cry, Arthur had anticipated the enemy fae's focus, his ability to see an opening when he had it and ignore the distractions around him in order to capitalize on the opportunity to take his opponent down. So Arthur had aimed accordingly.  
  
The fae's scream when the dagger buried itself in his left eye was like music to Arthur's ears.  
  
The enemy dropped his remaining dagger and staggered to the side from the abrupt impact, mouth open in an agonized scream as too light blood poured down from his eye. Arthur let out his breath and dropped to his knees, watching as Alfred moved back into action.  
  
“Nice-” he said, twisting around and planting his left foot, bringing his right one up off the ground, “Shot!” he finished, sending his booted heel straight into the dagger's handle.   
  
There was an odd sort of ripping sound, dulled by the flesh the dagger had to cut through and the bone it couldn't, and the fae dropped. Alfred straightened and approached, kicking the motionless figure once before heaving a heavy sigh and rolling his injured shoulder through a wince. Then he held up his hand and moved it in a straight line from left to right.   
  
Arthur's eyes widened from where he'd dropped to the ground as a rip in the very air in front of Alfred seemed to appear, widening into a hole that held something else entirely on the other side, a view of leafless trees and barren ground, all in shades of wintery grey. It widened further and when the bottom of it reached the street they stood on, Alfred used his foot to roll the body of the other fae into the hole. Then he said something, waved his hand and the hole closed on itself, leaving nothing but the alleyway they stood in.   
  
Then Alfred turned to him, a tired smile on his face. The fae had black blood streaked across his face in places, and all over his clothes as well. It was joined by his own blood and that of his enemy, a couple shades lighter than Arthur's own. Wherever one of those creatures had died was a lifeless body surrounded by a pool of black, both of which were slowly ...melting. Arthur made a face, his hands lifting to his forehead as he tried to gather his wits. His hands were shaking as the adrenaline from earlier wore off and he was left with an odd sort of feeling, half amazement, half disbelief.  
  
The vines were slowly retracting, leaving nothing but a black mess in their wake as Alfred regained control of them and sent them back to wherever they'd come from. Arthur watched them with a vacant sort of stare until he felt a touch on his arm and turned to find Alfred crouched in front of him. The fae had lost his earlier smile and though they had been victorious, Arthur could tell that Alfred hadn't won this fight entirely. Not yet.   
  
“I don't know who sent him,” Alfred said slowly. “But the fact that he was sent at all tells me that someone is up to something.”  
  
Arthur just stared at him, felt the warmth of his hand seep into his skin through the fabric of Arthur's shirt. He took a profound sort of comfort just from that one small point of contact and he felt his heartbeat slow to a more moderate level.  
  
“In your court, you risk people slandering your name if you eat a piece of cake the wrong way,” Alfred continued, that smirk and dark humor of his peeking through his mask of seriousness. “In mine, you risk death for nothing more than being who you are.”  
  
 _For being the son of the Erlking_ was left unsaid, but Arthur understood nonetheless. He was beginning to see that the life of the higher fae, the courts that ruled their society, was only comparable to his own in that the people involved wore masks. But instead of merely hiding distaste and arrogance, what lay beneath the masks of the fae was a deadly game of cat and mouse, manipulation and violence.  
  
Arthur had barely managed to survive within his own court and now he had to make the decision about whether or not to step foot into another, much more dangerous one. One he wasn't exactly equipped to handle as a mere human.  
  
Alfred raised his hand and pressed the rough skin of his palm against Arthur's cheek. “I want you,” he said seriously and Arthur could tell that he meant it, that he'd go to great lengths to keep Arthur beside him, safe and loved and _his_. And the dark possessiveness of those blue eyes scared and excited him all at once as he saw a path that led to an obsessive sort of dependency.  
  
But Arthur felt much the same about Alfred. He wanted – oh god he _wanted_ \- with a furious sort of fixation that he hadn't ever felt before. He associated it with what he'd felt that fateful night of the Hunt, like there was something unknown running through his blood, making him crave the fae in front of him and driving him to near insanity at the thought of losing him. It was what had spurred him to throw that dagger, to destroy anything that might take Alfred from him.  
  
“I don't want to let you go, but...” Alfred continued when Arthur, caught up in his own thoughts, said nothing.  
  
Arthur didn't want Alfred to let him go. Ever. But instead of explaining to Alfred what he barely understood himself, Arthur grabbed the fae by the back of the neck and brought their lips together in an abrupt kiss, melting into Alfred's larger frame when the fae opened his mouth and tugged Arthur's body to press up against him. When they broke for air, Arthur buried his face in the curve of Alfred's neck and just _breathed_.  
  
“Okay then,” Alfred said quietly, holding Arthur to his chest in a grip so tight it almost hurt to breath. “Let's go home.”

**Author's Note:**

> This is the last installment of this series, as I have pretty much left the Hetalia fandom.


End file.
